


Do You Want to Know a Secret?

by 221b_hound



Series: Guitar Man [38]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hooper-Lestrade twins, Chris and David, have a secret. They wonder if they should tell their parents. They wonder if their parents already know. They wonder if their parents will care if they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Chris and David Hooper-Lestrade walked home from their school, discussing their dilemma in soft voices. Their matching tousled blonde heads and matching gangly strides still drew looks, although they were a familiar sight, going between their high school and their home, heads close together, whispering conspiratorially. A snapshot taken at the corner of their street for every one of their fifteen years of life would have shown them walking like this. Sharing secrets and plotting adventures.  
  
This dilemma was a secret (probably) and also an adventure (hopefully), and they were deciding how to proceed.  
  
“Do you think he already knows?”  
  
“Well, he is a cop. If he doesn’t, he should.”  
  
“So, theoretically, we don’t have to do this. He’s worked it all out and not said anything.”  
  
“Could be.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Or he could be a complete noodlebrain and he’s missed all the clues.”  
  
“Sherlock probably knows.”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“He’s probably even said something. The man’s a genius but he’s got no filter.”  
  
“God, you remember that time he told Dad that Mum was pregnant with Chloe before she’d had a chance to tell Dad herself?”  
  
“She hit him so hard!”  
  
“And he looked so surprised!”  
  
“And John wouldn’t give him any sympathy at all, and said he hoped the bruise would be permanent.”  
  
“So. Yeah. Sherlock probably knows, and he’s probably said...”  
  
“Unless he actually listened to John that time and has learned to shut up.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Pity, that. It would make life easier.”  
  
“Yeah. Still. Sherlock seems a bit slow on the uptake on these sorts of things. Maybe he said something.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“Do you think Mum knows?”  
  
“I don’t know. I mean. She wouldn’t say, would she. Would she?”  
  
“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe she thinks she has.”  
  
The twin boys stopped their rapid-fire discussion for a moment to reflect on their mother and her habit of blurting things out then stopping half way through the blurt, so it wasn’t always obvious what the issue was.  
  
“She won’t care, though,” said David.  
  
“No. And Dad won’t care,” said Chris.  
  
“And they probably already know.”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“And it’s all fine.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Though maybe we should... you know.”  
  
“Tell them. Properly. Yeah.”  
  
“Before the dance, I mean.”  
  
“Yeah. I know. Mum asked me the other day if I’d asked anyone yet. Or if anyone had asked me.”  
  
“Dad wanted to know that too.”  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“That I was thinking of someone.”  
  
“Hmm. Yeah. That’s what I told Mum.”  
  
“Have you actually asked him yet?”  
  
“Yeah.” Chris grinned. “And he said yes.”  
  
“Awesome.”  
  
“You?”  
  
David’s grin was a perfect match for his brother’s. “Ranjit.”  
  
“And he said yes?”  
  
“He asked me.”  
  
“Well hello, my brother the tottie-magnet.”  
  
“Don’t call Ranjit ‘tottie’.”  
  
“You always call Mikey a ‘cerebro-twink’.”  
  
“That’s cos he is a cerebro-twink.”  
  
“Well, Ranjit’s not ‘tottie’.”  
  
“Well, he’s hardly Mensa material.”  
  
“Ranjit’s heaps smart.”  
  
Chris considered yanking his brother’s chain a bit more, but then remembered they were supposed to be closing ranks for this whole Coming Out issue. “He’s all right.”  
  
“He’s gorgeous.”  
  
Chris mouthed ‘tottie’ at his brother, because basically he couldn’t help himself, but about then they fetched up on their own front doorstep and they both hesitated.  
  
They stared at the door, at each other, at the door. Chris reached out and turned the handle. David reached out and pushed the door. They slid in, one on the other’s heels, dumped their schoolbags in the hall and walked through to the kitchen. Their mother was there, home early from St Bart’s. Their dad was there, grabbing a coffee and, apparently, a cuddle, before heading out the door again. Their sister was home – they’d seen her bag in the hall – but she was probably in her room. The boys cocked their heads to listen. Yep. In her room, singing boyband pop songs into a hairbrush, by the sound of it.  
  
“Good day at school?” Greg asked, giving Molly another peck on the cheek and reaching for his coat.  
  
“All right,” said Chris.  
  
“All right,” said David.  
  
“All set for the big dance next week?” asked Molly, helping Greg straighten his tie.  
  
“Yeah,” came the dual response.  
  
“Dates all sorted, then?” Greg checked his pockets – wallet, ID, keys.  
  
“Yeah.” Simultaneous replies, simultaneously wary.  
  
“Nice boys, I hope,” said Greg, stopping to give his sons a look they couldn’t decipher. Well, they could. Open. Accepting. Kind. A bit... a bit tender.  
  
They stared at their dad, a bit shocked, a bit hopeful. A bit happy. Deeply embarrassed.  
  
“Um,” said Chris.  
  
“Ah,” said David.  
  
“Don’t look so surprised,” said Greg, “I am a detective you know.”  
  
“So Sherlock didn’t tell you?”  
  
“No,” Greg managed to look both amused and annoyed, “As if he’d need to tell me something so fundamental about my own kids.”  
  
“Your dates... are they anyone we know?” asked Molly, stepping up to hold their dad’s hand. Her smile was sunny and loving and more than a little curious.  
  
“Mikey,” said Chris, and he couldn’t help lifting his chin a little. Pride or defiance or something else, he didn’t know.  
  
“Mike Delaney? Oh, he is a nice boy. His mother,” Molly turned to Greg, “Runs the florist on the high street, you remember?”  
  
“Yeah. His old man’s a regular on dart’s night. He’s a good kid. Smart.”  
  
The parents quirked eyebrows at their other son.  
  
“I don’t think you know him,” said David, “Ranjit Chowdhury.”  
  
Greg nodded. “Is that the family from Beckham Mews? I think I met Mrs Chowdhury at the last parent-teacher night. Is Ranjit the boy with the...” Greg waved at his own face, “The cheekbones.”  
  
“That’s him.” David didn’t know whether to grin or die of embarrassment.  
  
“Our boys have good taste,” said Greg, “Glad to hear it’s going well. I have to go. Double homicide with an aquarium twist, which will thrill Sherlock, no doubt. Better go or he’ll get there before me, and he’ll spend the whole time winding up my new sergeant. Sometimes I swear he finds it fun to see whether he’ll break ‘em in or just break ‘em. Bye, hon.” He kissed Molly. “Bye, chaps.” He patted and squeezed first one boy’s skinny shoulder then the other’s. “Feel free to invite the lads over after school if you want to. I don’t know if you do corsages for blokes for the dance. Let your mum know what you need, anyway.”  
  
Chris and David had both rolled their eyes at the mention of corsages, because it wasn’t something anyone did for girls either, let alone boys. Tell the truth, they didn’t actually know what a corsage was.  
  
Their dad left and their mum was giving them a misty-eyed look.  
  
“My boys,” she said soppily, “Dating.” Then she grabbed them both in a hug. “Growing up.”  
  
“Muuuuuuum,” complained Chris indistinctly against her shoulder.  
  
“Mmmph,” agreed David, face mooshed against her other shoulder.  
  
“Sorry, sorry, yes, I know.” Molly pulled back, wiped her teary eyes and smiled. “Go wash up and do your homework. Is that better? Dinner in an hour.”  
  
Chris and David grinned at her, at each other, at their mum again, then raced each other up the stairs, where they proceeded to tease their little sister about being in luuuuuuurve with the boyband in question, and she proceeded to kick them both in the shins.  
  
So, pretty much, it was just another day in the Hooper-Lestrade household.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Beatles song of the same name.


End file.
